Espionage
by Dizzy the Dingo
Summary: Ch. 2. As an espionage, Lily Evans enters pureblood society. Yet, what’s real – Muggleborn, Order member, the Light Side – and what’s not – society wife, Death Eater, the Dark Side – becomes blurred. Will reality prevail or will fiction become reality?
1. Offer

**Disclaimer**: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

* * *

**i.  
**_offer_

* * *

"Password, miss."

"Cockroach Clusters."

The stone gargoyle moved to the side stoically, to reveal a staircase that slowly rotated upwards. For one long moment, the young witch stood at the foot of the staircase, motionless and nervous. The letter she clutched in her hand – bearing the broken seal exclusive to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, worn from being unfolded and repeatedly all day long – seemed like a leaden weight in her hand, a weight tied to multitude of knots in her stomach. When she had received the personal missive from the Headmaster, shortly after breakfast this morning, she had been more curious than anxious over what it was he could want from her that would require a personal visit on the last day of term.

However, throughout the rest of the day, as she packed up the few little odds and ends left around her dormitory and spending time with friends before the long stretch of summer holidays ahead, her curiosity had lessened and lessened until it had melted completely into a blistering sense of anxiety that gnawed at her relentlessly. An endless array of questions bounced around in her mind, buzzing and stinging like hornets violently expelled from their nest.

What was it that the powerful and famed Albus Dumbledore wanted to speak with her about, personally? What was it that he wanted to discuss with her that had come up on the very last day of term? Had she done something over the course of her sixth-year that would affect her upcoming seventh-year? Had something changed so drastically about her academics or schooling that the headmaster thought –

"The headmaster awaits your arrival, miss."

The gargoyle was as stoic as ever, only the scarce moving of his stone lips indicating that it was in anyway an animate object. A pair of jade-green eyes surveyed the statue with apprehension, finding something disturbing about a hunk of stone being so sentient. After six years in the magical pool that was Hogwarts, where portraits talked and visited one another, ghosts where a regular part of the scenery, and books could scream at you or talk to you, she supposed that she shouldn't be the least surprised by a talking statue. But, there was something that was just…creepy, for lack of a better word, about it.

Rather than give it the opportunity to start a full-fledged conversation, complete with hand gestures and facial expressions, the witch stepped onto the revolving staircase and allowed it to carry her upwards. It seemed like an eternity before she found herself standing at the thick, wooden door that the headmaster's office lay beyond, though she knew in actuality that it had only been a matter of seconds. She paused for one long moment, allowing herself a few final seconds to panic before she faced the headmaster.

Then, she raised a trembling hand, and firmly knocked against the door.

"Enter," came a pensive but powerful voice from beyond the door.

With a deep breath, she opened the door and tentatively stepped inside.

Albus Dumbledore rose to his feet, all power and prestige despite his brilliant violet robes and pointed starry hat, and bestowed upon a smile that was more than reassuring.

"Ah, welcome, Miss Evans. I'm so pleased that you could make it."

Lily Evans returned the smile as best she could, closed the door, and awaited to hear what had brought her to the Headmaster's office this brilliant June morning.

* * *

"Miss Evans, have you ever heard of an organization called the Order of the Phoenix?"

The forkful of treacle tart hovered in front of her mouth for one long moment, before Lily lowered it back down to her plate without having taken the anticipated bite.

So far, the past hour had been far more enjoyable than she had previously imagined. Instead of having to sit in one of the armchairs as if she was a disobedient student, Headmaster Dumbledore had invited her back to his personal quarters, where he had a sumptuous lunch waiting for them along and a steady stream upbeat music flowing from the Wizarding Wireless. Over the course of the next hour, as they tucked into a meal so divine that she was quite certain that she had died and gone to heaven, Lily found that the previous anxiety that had nearly crippled her upon her arrival was nothing more than a curious tingle in the back of her mind. Though she hadn't any reason to think otherwise, the young Gryffindor witch found that the venerable and famed wizard was quite similar to what she could imagine of her late grandfather – warm, kind, humorous, and welcoming.

By the time the house-elves had come to clear away their lunch and returned with an entire dish of treacle tart and a bowl of custard to be split between them, Lily was so relaxed and at ease that she had actually slipped her sandals off and tucked her feet under her. The winged armchair she was sitting in the perfect type of chair to curl up in and nap the afternoon away. She had almost forgotten that Dumbledore had summoned her here for a specific and important reason.

Until he asked her about what she knew of the Order of the Phoenix.

The burning anxiety and worry returned at full force, making her stomach clench rather unpleasantly. Unconsciously, Lily raised her hand to her mouth and began to nibble on her jagged thumbnail. "The Order of the Phoenix, sir?"

Dumbledore nodded. "Does the name sound familiar, in any way?"

Of course the name sounded familiar. Over the past couple of years, as the Dark forces began rising and Death Eater activity began to be as common in their world as a Lumos Spell, the Order of the Phoenix had become a name that did not trail to far behind whenever the Dark Lord or his followers were mentioned. In an official capacity, as far as the Ministry of Magic was concerned, the Order was nothing more than a 'vigilante group unqualified to deal with the dangerous Dark forces that were becoming a rising concern for national security'. But, as far as the public at large were concerned, the Order – the nameless, faceless fighters who picked up the slack where the Aurors were ineffective or stretched too thin – were nothing short of an answer to numerous prayers.

Lily counted herself amongst those who revered the Order as heroes, covert guardian angels who protected her and others like her from forces that she had no idea how to combat or protect herself against. Now, more than ever, she found that simply being who she was – a Muggleborn witch, a Gryffindor witch, a common witch – was cause enough to look twice at people she normally wouldn't consider dangerous or shady.

She had received quite the lesson in trusting that outwards appearance guaranteed what was on the inside. The ivory-white scar that trailed up the back of her hand and began to fade near the crook of her elbow still smarted painfully anytime she got within arm's length of Kenneth Travers. She had made quick friends with him the night they had been Sorted into Gryffindor together, Lily finding it easy to connect with someone as clever and humorous as Kenneth was, and remained friends all the way up until fifth-year. But, now – Kenneth looked at her as though she downright turned his stomach, something that he would be all too glad to grind beneath his heel the first chance he got.

She was nowhere near capable of sorting through the gray areas yet, as was proven by Travers. But, the Order of the Phoenix – whoever those anonymous but incredibly brave souls were – seemed to know beyond all doubt. And, Lily couldn't help but admire them greatly.

However, she was uncertain as to what the headmaster thought of them. As the head of the Wizengamot, and therefore over the entire Ministry, Dumbledore was undoubtedly the leading force behind the Ministry's stern disapproval of the Order. Had he somehow found out that she supported and approved of them, and was about to take disciplinary action against her?

Lily looked up, anxiously, meeting the headmaster's eyes uncertainly.

"I assure you, Miss Evans," Dumbledore said, soothingly, "whatever you know about the Order of the Phoenix, whatever your opinions are about them, you will suffer no retribution from voicing them here."

Lily blinked, surprised. It was as if the headmaster had looked directly into her mind, seen her fear, and wanted to immediately disabuse that notion. Her posture eased in relief, as she brought her dampened thumb away from mouth, her cheeks coloring slightly as she realized what she had been doing.

"Well, sir – frankly, I think the Order of the Phoenix is wonderful." Dumbledore gave her an encouraging smile, and Lily continued, "You-Know-Who and his Death Eaters would completely take over our world if there wasn't someone – or, a lot someone's, rather – to stop him or oppose him. The Aurors and the Ministry are trying their best, but I honestly believe they're – "

Lily paused, once again conscious that she was speaking to the man who was over the entire Ministry.

"Please, Miss Evans – speak your mind." Dumbledore urged. "Your honest opinion is what I'm seeking."

Lily brought her thumb up to her mouth once more, but stopped herself before she could begin gnawing on it. What a little girl she must look like, curled up in an armchair and chewing on her thumbnail. Dumbledore was speaking to her as though she were an adult, his equal; she should most certainly act like it.

"Honestly, sir, I think the Ministry is too scared of You-Know-Who to do anything effective against him. It's almost as if they are refusing to admit that You-Know-Who is a real threat, that if they simply sit back and not anger him, he'll go away. The Aurors can only do what the Ministry allows them to do and the Ministry doesn't seem to want to do anything too jarring. So, where the Ministry and its Aurors are failing, the Order of the Phoenix is stepping in, and I can honestly say that I admire the bleeding hell out of them for doing so."

There was a short stretch of silence following this outburst, an outburst that Lily had not honestly meant to let out, and for one long moment, Lily found herself mortified. Sure, she had been speaking openly with the headmaster for quite a while now, but that had simply been polite conversation. But, that – that had been outright scathing criticism of the government, its officials, as well as support for an underground vigilante group that the Ministry was firmly opposed to. Not to mention, she had sworn.

What the headmaster must think of her now, she had no idea. But, Lily could only hope that she hadn't opened a Pandora's box of consequences when it came to the most powerful wizard in Britain.

"And, this is how you truly feel, Miss Evans?" Dumbledore asked quietly.

Lily hesitated for a moment. What she had said had already been said and there was no taking it back. But, she wouldn't have, even if she could have. If nobody with the power to do anything about it was saying these things, there certainly couldn't be any harm in her saying these things.

"Yes, sir." Lily nodded, firmly. "This is exactly how I feel."

Dumbledore was silent for several long moments, before a brilliant smile broke out across his wizened face, his blue eyes twinkling like sapphires. "Then, Miss Evans, I formally offer you the chance to become a member of the Order of the Phoenix."

* * *

(**Author's Note**: Not much action here, unfortunately. But, it picks up going forward, I promise. Tell me what you think, so I'll know if it's worth going forward with!)


	2. Wait

(**Author's Note:** Thank you to everyone who reviewed the previous chapter. I would like to ask, though, that if you leave anonymous review, please include an email address or something of the sort, so that I may contact you and thank you. If you took the time to review, I would dearly like to thank you _for_ reviewing.)

(**Disclaimer**: See the first chapter. However, I do own the following OCs - Clive Branson, Alec, Randall, Mick, Scottie, Old Sam, and Henry Evans.)

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**ii.  
**wait

The night was sweltering and humid, the heat continuing to thrive even though its source had long since dropped out of sight. All evening long, the ragged door that led into The Cotton Pub had been left wide open in hopes that if a stray breeze passed by, it would float into the stuffy confines of the dim and crowded pub. But, now that the clock crept closer to the midnight hour and most of the patronage had dwindled down to nothingness, Lily found herself bent forwards and wrestling with the ancient doorstop in quite the struggle to close the door.

This was a nightly routine for her, as frustrating as it was. The barkeep – Old Sam, who was as rickety and wizened as his establishment – was well-beyond his years of stooping down and wrestling with the blasted door. And, her fellow co-workers, the big and strapping blokes they were, found themselves occupied with the more menial side of closing up the pub: moving the tables back into their proper positions, placing chairs on top the tables, moving crates of ale and beer from the back to restock the bar, and dealing with the less cooperative drunkards who had crawled too far down into the bottle to remember their names.

Most times, Lily found this ritualistic struggle with The Door something of a respite, a tedious few minutes in which she could breathe after an entire day of running about, serving and catering to the rowdy customers who overpopulated The Cotton Pub. It was a time to think – or, to _not_ think – and it usually cleared her head enough for her to wind down properly and sleep when she finally did get back home and go to sleep.

But, for the past two weeks, her routine struggle with The Door had become a mounting source of frustration. As of last summer and this summer so far, as well as anytime she was on break from Hogwarts, the end of the night presented her with this struggle – but, it had only been in the past two weeks that her struggle with The Door had come to represent what was occurring in her life at the moment.

Similar to the rusted doorstop, Lily felt firmly stuck where she was, not moving from the rut she was in, though she knew there were places she needed to be. Quite like the doorstop was wedged between the cracked cement and the roughened underside of the door, Lily had a growing sense that she was stuck in limbo – wedged between the mundane Muggle world and the tumultuous Wizarding world without any way to get free. She knew that someone had the ability to yank her from her deadlock, but –

But, that someone had yet to contact her once in the two weeks since he had offer her the single biggest opportunity of her young life so far.

Her jade-green eyes glinted with barely suppressed fury, as she once more thought of the silence Headmaster Dumbledore had been offering her since he had called her to his office on the last day of term. She had expected that as soon as she arrived back home in Manchester, she would be whisked away the next evening to the underground headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix, immediately given an assignment, and then sent off to fight and battle alongside the rest of the courageous Phoenixes. She was expecting her summer holidays to be spent chasing down Death Eaters, capturing them in the midst of their evil deeds – being a hero.

Yet, every day since she had returned from London had been spent here at The Cotton Pub, bartending and waiting tables from opening to closing. The most action she had seen in a fortnight was the rowdy brawl that had broken out between a group of Manchester United fans and Liverpool fans, but had been quickly broken up by Clive and Alec. The glare that Lily wore darkened, as she began shoving at the door in earnest, attempting to move it back far enough for the doorstop to come loose but more using it to exert the anger that had been slowly simmering within her for the past two weeks.

The rest of the Order members – who remained anonymous, for she had never been to _one blasted meeting yet_ – were out fighting and hunting the Death Eaters, capturing them and hauling them off to jail. They were bravely risking their lives for the good of everyone, seeking out all those horrid fiends who wanted to see hundreds viciously murdered simply for who their parents were and putting them away. Already, she had counted a half-dozen mentions of them in the Daily Prophet, despite the fact that they were being firmly disapproved of by the Ministry.

But, here she was – as good as a member, quite the powerful and capable witch, and a more than willing fighter – stuck in working her days and nights away in a seedy Manchester pub amongst Muggles, when she could be doing far greater good for her own kind at this very moment.

A vicious, furious kick to the door and the rusted doorstop came loose. However, her satisfaction lasted only a spilt-second, before Lily found herself knocked to the ground. The door swung shut with such force that for a moment, Lily thought that it had laughed derisively at her for daring to think she could close it like that without consequences. But, no – it wasn't the door. Instead, it had been someone, a person.

A quick, scowled glance around the pub revealed no one, however. No one except her co-workers, who weren't paying her the slightest bit of attention. Scottie was behind the bar, evaluating what was left of their stock – putting the empty bottles to one side, shifting the other bottles in order to make room for the coming bottles – and singing at the top of his voice to the deafening rock music that was blaring from the old sound system in the back. Mick and Randall were talking and laughing as they made slow work of situating the tables back in their proper places, then placing the chairs atop the tables. And, Alec and Clive, the brawniest of them all, were hauling crates from the back; they were completely absorbed in their nightly competition to see who could haul the most and the heaviest loads from the back in the shortest amount of time.

There was no one else around, no one that could have laughed at her. But, Lily continued to have the niggling feeling of there being another person around, another presence in the pub besides herself and the rowdy boys she worked with.

A moment longer, she remained plopped down on the floor, her jade-green eyes sweeping around the pub. She was beginning silly, she knew, but she couldn't help this feeling burning in her gut. She had always fancied herself to have above-average instincts, to simply know when something was not right or when something was about to happen. And, right now – those instincts were telling her that if something was not right, then something was about to happen.

The willow wand that rested at the small of her back, where her spine curved inwards before it met her bum, seemed to warm in response to the might-be danger. Her wand-arm began to tingle with the need to clutch that warmth and use it. Her magic began to swell within her making her heart flutter and her pulse race in anticipation of using it on someone or something.

Yet, she was in a pub full of Muggles. She had had her brushes with the Misuse of Magic Office before, for testing exactly how serious Hogwarts and the Ministry were about not using magic in the presence of Muggles, and before that, during the school holidays. But, her last warning – back in fourth-year, when she absolutely had to use magic, but for what she couldn't exactly recall years later – had made it clear that another offense would result in expulsion. The last place Lily needed to be, in the midst of an increasingly vicious war and with several faceless, nameless but the nonetheless terrifying figures that wanted her dead because of her heritage, was expelled from the safest place in the Wizarding World with a snapped wand.

Lily exhaled deeply, the strands of ruby-red hair that escaped from the sloppy French braid she had thrown together on her walk over here this morning fluttering upwards briefly.

Another look around the pub convinced her – at least, partly – that she was being quite silly and paranoid. There was no one here but herself and the boys, and she was doing nothing but wasting time in doing what she needed to do in order to get out of here faster. Ignoring the feeling of being watched, Lily spun on her heel, and went back to work.

* * *

"Evans out!" Lily announced, as she tied her jacket around her waist and slung her knapsack over her shoulder. She had been able to focus on her work, for the most part, over the past hour and now, she was finally off shift. With aching feet and legs, Lily wanted nothing more than to fall into bed and sleep until morning. "See you arses on the morrow."

The pub was quiet, now that it was after midnight. Old Sam, the elderly man who owned the pub seemingly as long as it had been around, was firm on the rule that there was to be "none of that ear-spliting shite" after midnight, and so, reluctantly, Scottie had cut off the music. The pub was now peacefully silent, though Lily swore that her ears continued to ring from the two hours that the music had been on.

Lily sauntered over to the bar, where Clive, Randall, Scottie, and Mick were gathered. Scottie was stretched out across the counter, one arm thrown over his eyes and the other resting across his torso; he would have taken for being asleep, but the way his mouth was running at top speed belied this notion. Mick and Randall were each nursing tankard of ale, with Mick playing bartender for the both of them. And, Clive was sitting on top the counter, at Scottie's feet, with a bowl of peanuts in his lap; there was a small mound of peanut shells building on top Scottie's crossed legs, and Lily was betting that the Scottish boy wasn't aware of this.

This was a regular routine for them, to hang about the pub for a bit before they went home and unwind; Alec left as soon as shift was over, eager to get home to his girlfriend and young baby. Lily knew she was welcome join them, but much Alec yet for different reason, she was eager to get home almost as soon as her shift was over with. However, she couldn't resist stopping to chat for a moment with them, before beginning the ten minute walk to her house.

"Any of you strapping lads willing to walk the dainty little lass home from work?" asked Lily, a smirk curling at the corners of her mouth.

Mick snorted, incredulous. "Dainty little lass? Try again, Red." He almost never called her by her given name, instead preferring to employ the much-exhausted name for redheads. It annoyed Lily, but this only served to make him more determined to use it.

"Hey, now – what are you trying to imply?" Lily placed her hands on her hips and glared.

"You're one of the blokes, Lily." Randall declared. He raised his tankard at her in a salute. "Be honored, mate, we don't lay that distinction on any old body."

"Yep." Scottie piped up, agreeably. His Scottish burr was thicker than usual, a sure sign that he was quite tired. "And, since you're one of the blokes, that means you can walk yourself home. Blokes don't need personal escorts. So scram, bloke."

Lily rolled her eyes. "Such chivalrous gentlemen you are, letting a girl walk home by herself in the middle of the night."

Mick and Randall raised their tankards, both declaring in somewhat slurred voices, "Aye."

Scottie raised the arm that was laid across his stomach, his fist clutched tightly. "Huzzah, our little bloke."

"Unbelievable." Lily glared at all of them, before switching her gaze to Clive. "What about you, Branson? Are you apart of the Arsehole Brigade or are do you have at least a little decency in you?"

At once, Mick declared, "You side with her, you're out of the club, mate."

Randall agreed. He thrust his tankard in the air, ale sloshing over the side and sloshing on both himself and Mick. "Too right, Mickey boy. No more tankard and talk for you, bud, you fall for those pretty green peepers of hers and do what she says."

Once again, Scottie agreed with a somewhat more subdued "Huzzah!"

A smile brightened her face, as Lily decided to use Randall's words against him. She stepped close to Clive, who had paused in the middle of shelling a peanut, and tilted her head downwards, so that she was able to look up at him through her ridiculously long scarlet eyelashes. She batted them, in what she hoped was a coy manner, and then looked him directly in the face. Obviously, Randall knew what he was talking about.

When her brilliant, jade-green eyes connected with his impossibly dark eyes, Clive seemed to have been slung into a daze. His lips parted slightly, his eyes blinked rapidly, and the beginnings of what was probably destined to be an idiot smile began to curl his mouth. One would have thought that her eyes were the tools of a hypnotist, from Clive's reaction. And, no matter what that insufferable Potter had been telling her over the past three years, she was quite certain that her eyes held no kind of hypnotic powers.

But, if Clive was content to act like it, then Lily was willing to take advantage of it. She was not exactly afraid to walk home, knowing that she had the power of magic on her side in the midst of this Muggle city, but still wanted a bit of company, as she strolled through the streets at nearly one in the morning.

"Clive, darling," began Lily, batting her eyelashes at him for further affect. All three of the boys groaned, though Scottie's sounded something closer to a snore. "I know that I'm well able to take care of myself and I know that my house isn't that far away, but…still. I am a young girl and not at all strong, like a lad – especially a lad like you. Would you please do me a big favor, and walk me home? It'll only take a few minutes, I promise."

"Don't do it, Clive boy." Randall warned, glaring at him with pale-blue eyes. "We're warning ya, mate."

"Clive?" Lily positively simpered.

Clive looked between his mates, who were both glaring at him. He looked back at Lily, who was now giving him quite the radiant smile. He looked once again at his mates, and then –

"Sure thing, Lily. I was on my way anyhow."

Mick slapped his hand down on the counter, startling Scottie, who had indeed fallen asleep. Randall groaned loudly, brandishing his tankard at Clive and spilling even more ale everywhere. Clive simply tucked his head and shrugged, grinning at his friends' aggravation, as well as the thought of walking the exceptionally pretty Lily home.

"That's it, traitor, you're outta the club." Mick gulped deeply from his tankard, before adding, "Go sit in the corner, think about what you've done."

"Better yet, Clive boy," Randall announced. He seemed to be spilling more ale than he was drinking, so intent he was on using brandishing his tankard everywhere. "Just get out altogether. We don't wanna look at your ugly mug no more. We're not even gonna 'knowledge your 'sistence no more when it comes time for tankard and talk. You're out the club, like Mickey boy said."

Lily couldn't help but snorting with laughter. Both Mick and Randall were steadily feeling the effects of the ale they'd been downing for the past hour and now sounded quite silly. They'd have to lean on one another for support on the way back to the flat they shared, at the rate they were going. Mick heard her snort, though, and turned his half-hearted glare on her.

"Don't laugh, Red." Mick groused. "Hope you're happy now, breaking up mates like this. Now we're short one clubber."

"Aye." Randall gestured sloppily with his tankard. "Always could tell you were a mate breaker-upper. All's you gotta do is bat those pretty peepers at old Clive boy, and he's all ready to crawl into your knickers like he's been wanting to for – "

"Um, okay, yeah!" Clive said loudly, loud enough to drown out whatever it was that Randall was saying. His face was redder than her own hair and Lily could only stare, as he leapt off the counter, the bowl of peanuts spilling to the floor. "Guess we better be going now, Lily. Have to walk you home, then get home myself. Church in the morning and all you know. Come now, let's get to it."

Well, then. This was surprising – Clive, fancying her. Men staring at her as she worked her way through the pub, the lewd comments, the awful pick-up lines, the sometimes grabby ones who she never failed to put back in place – this was all apart of being the only female working in a pub. But, to have one her co-workers be smitten with her, when she was more than often declared to be "one of the boys"?

Lily was still rather perturbed by this, as Clive returned from the backroom with his guitar slung over his shoulder and his bag. He refused to look at her, instead putting an awful lot of concentration into saying goodbye to his mates.

"Later for you, non-clubber." Mick declared with a sluggish nod. He drained the rest of his tankard, then refilled it to brim. "See you in the morn, mate breaker-upper."

Mick moved to refill Randall's tankard, but Randall moved it out of the way at the last moment; it took a moment before Mick realized that there was no tankard to pour the ale into. While Scottie groggily came awake and began swearing about the ale seeping up underneath him, Randall raised the empty tankard and waved it at Lily and Clive. "Gone 'bout your business, traitor and traitor-maker. We're gonna have something waiting for the both of you on the morrow, clubber's promise."

Lily rolled her eyes, again. "Go dunk your head in a barrel of water, Rand. And, don't let Mick drink himself into the ground. See both you arses tomorrow. Bye, Scottie!"

She and Clive walked through the door and into the sweltering night, Scottie's unintelligible farewells and Mick and Randall's drunken argument about who knew what fading out behind them. The heavy oak door closed with an awkward _thunk_ – almost as awkward as Clive and Lily found themselves, alone on the sidewalk. For several moments, they both stood there, studiously not looking at each. Then, Clive spoke.

"Um, about what Rand said – "

"Don't worry about it." Lily said quickly. A blush of her own flared on her face and she was certain that she was positively glowing in the night. She liked to consider herself unabashed and unafraid to approach anything. But, to discuss getting into her knickers with the guy who _wanted_ to get into her knickers was something she was certain she would die of mortification if she ever went there. "Really, Clive. Rand is an idiotic toerag, I don't take anything he says seriously. So, let's just forget he ever said it, yeah?"

Clive looked more relieved than he would have if someone would have told him he'd been let off a death sentence. "Yeah, yeah. Absolutely. Forget he ever said it."

Lily smiled tentatively and Clive grinned back, just as hesitantly. "So, how's about we set off on that walk home that got you kicked out the club?"

Clive rolled his eyes. "Those idiots are such morons. I bet you twenty pounds they'll completely forget about this in the morn and we'll be back at it tomorrow night. Drunkards rarely remember anything in the morning."

Lily laughed. "True."

"So, that being said, off we go." Clive bowed extravagantly, causing Lily to laugh once more. "After you, milady."

A smile still on her face, she set off walking. She'd gotten as far as the end of the block, before she realized that something was off, and glanced over her shoulder. That something that was off was that Clive was standing motionless, not having moved on inch, not having made any effort to begin walking. He was simply standing there, as if he had nothing to do whatsoever.

Retracing her steps, Lily asked confusedly, "Um, Clive? What are you doing?"

Clive did not answer. In fact, Clive did not seem aware at all that she had spoken to him. Coming to a stop in front of him, Lily came to realize that there was a totally blank look on his face, his dark eyes having glassed over, his mouth hanging open almost comically. Lily's eyebrows raised in surprised. What in the world…?

"Oy, Clive – what gives?" Lily raised her hand, waving it in front of his face. "What are you just standing there for, looking like a git?"

Still, there was no answer.

Those same instincts that had made her skin prickle in the pub, made her magic build and want to be released, seized up within her and burned within her like flames. There was something about the look that Clive carried on his face, something exceptionally unsettling. He seemed to have been wiped of all thought. He didn't appear to have any sense of self or life. He was nothing more than a breathing shell, something that seemed to be…waiting on permission or command to return back to life, to come back to himself again.

Without truly thinking about it, while continuing to stare at the vacant Clive, Lily reached around to where she kept her wand stashed while she was amongst Muggles. This time, there was no doubt that the slender length of wood was warm or that her wand-arm seemed to be positively crawling with the urge to use it. Something downright strange and out of the ordinary was happening here and if nothing else, Lily was well-versed in strange and out of the ordinary.

However, where the strange and out of the ordinary was once delightful in all its magical splendor, these days strange and out of the ordinary meant nothing good. There were whispers going all around the Wizarding World of You-Know-Who beginning to employ the use of the Imperius Curse, the one Unforgivable that could make you do anything in the world the caster wanted you to do. There were stories of perfectly decent and good people doing horrible things. People who would have never been thought to have anything to do with the Dark turning to You-Know-Who's side. People simply not being themselves, after meeting with an acquaintance or going out to lunch; people coming back from wherever and doing downright unmentionable things that they had no motive for doing.

Lily had never seen an Imperius victim up close before, couldn't tell what an Imperius victim looked like. But, she knew for certain that this sudden vacancy of the mind that Clive was displaying – healthy, twenty-something Clive who didn't do drugs and rarely drank, for all that he worked in a pub – was nothing normal. It might not even be anything harmless.

Her hand crept under her shirt, brushing the moist skin of her back, blindly feeling around for the exact place that her wand rested. Lily never took her eyes off Clive, as she asked in the calmest and most casual voice she could manage, "Still going to walk me home or not, Clive?"

The question seemed something like being electrocuted for the young man, for he jumped as though startled, and then focused on Lily with a startling clarity. "Walking you home?" he asked, as though the question had been spoken in Greek. "Who in the bloody hell said I'd be walking you home?"

Her hand gripped her wand tightly, assured something strange was going on. Clive, for all his brawn and towering height, was the most pleasant person that Lily knew; rather quiet and more prone to sensitivity than the louts he tended to spend time with. He swore, certainly – but never at Lily. Nor was he ever as abrasive as he was being now. There was something positively…_harsh_ about him in this moment and Lily didn't like it one bit.

"You did." Lily replied, her wand still in a death grip. "I asked a few minutes ago and you said you'd be glad to. What's the problem?"

Clive snorted, derisively. "Problem is I've got better things to do than walking you home. It's your house – I'm sure you know the way."

"But, you said – "

"Well, fuck whatever it is I said. Walk yourself home, brat."

Lily stepped back from him, so shocked she was by this cold retort. Clive was glaring now, almost hostilely, and now, Lily unease was turning to fear. If he'd been cursed, that meant that Death Eaters were lurking somewhere; you had to be relatively close, she was certain, to curse someone like this. And, here she was – actually attempting to convince him to follow her home. Clive was not himself in this moment, but someone's unsuspecting puppet, she was sure – and, without a doubt, the marionette was a Death Eater lying in wait.

She hated to do this, hated to leave her friend like this – gripped by magic he didn't even knew existed and being used by some Dark wizard for unknown means. But, she had to get away from him, and fast.

Drawing her wand from her waistband, but continuing to hold it behind her back, Lily took several more steps back and nodded. "Alright then. Be that way. Won't be asking you for anything ever again, rest assured."

Clive actually _sneered_ at her. "More than fine by me."

She knew it was unwise – it went against everything she'd ever been taught by the better of the litany of Defense Against the Dark Arts professors she'd had over the past six years – but in spite of this, Lily turned away from Clive and began to walk away. She kept her steps as measured and unhurried as possible, though everything was screaming to run. She kept herself perfectly composed as she turned the corner.

And, no matter how much she wanted to, Lily did not look back.

* * *

Number Thirteen, Weaver's Way.

The sight of the modest but cozy split-level house, with the immaculate lawn and plethora of flowers – in the window boxes, lining the house, down the sides of the front walk – and the gleaming, cheerful red front door, had never been a more welcomed sight to Lily. What was usually ten minutes worth of walking through the quite night had been shaved down to seven minutes, when Lily had broken into something close to sprints about three blocks away from the pub. She wanted to put as much distant between herself and whoever was had cursed one of her Muggle friends as possible.

As she practically fell through the door, making more noise than usual, Lily swore to herself that before over the Christmas break later on in the year, she would make it her business to go down to the Ministry and get an Apparition License. If she'd been able to do so, she could have saved herself seven minutes of panicky running through the darkened streets of Manchester.

The noise she had made coming through the door had obviously awoken her father, whose bedroom now resided on the ground floor. Since the terrible car accident the spring of her third-year, which had killed her mother and left her father paralyzed from the waist down, everything had been changed around the Evans household to accommodate Henry Evans and his unexpected paralysis. This included his having to move down to the guest bedroom on the bottom level, when before he had shared the master bedroom on the first level with his wife, Iris.

"Kitten, is that you?"

Several moments were spent attempting to regain control of her erratic breathing and heartbeat. Then, when she felt as though she could answer without sounding as though she had just run a marathon, Lily replied, "Yes, Daddy. Just coming in from work."

"What's with all th' noise?" wondered Henry, his voice thick with sleep. "Ev'rything alrigh'?"

_I've had the feeling that someone is watching me all night long, my Muggle friend has been cursed by someone who ten-to-one is a Death Eater, and I'm scared out of my mind that I've lead that someone right to our front door. No, Daddy, everything is __**not**__ alright._

Lily trembled with the thought of having lead Death Eaters to her home, where her beloved father still lived. She and Petunia hadn't gotten on well in several years, their interactions only stretching as far as speaking in clipped tones on the telephone when she called and barely tolerating one another when she visited; but Lily would have been no less afraid for her if she still lived at home. Mercifully, she was off at university studying to be a nurse.

The night was hot, more stifling inside the house with the air-conditioner not currently on, but Lily still felt several chills snake up and down her spine. Death Eaters were frightening enough, when read about in the paper and whispered about in the halls. To have one of those masked fiends in her home…

Her knuckles were going white, she was clutching her wand in an exceptionally tight grip. Right now, this willow wand was the only thing that stood between her, her father, and anything that might come from the night and attack them. She was a rising seventh-year, yes – but she was intensely interested in the magic she had and everything it could do. Most of her early years had been spent inhaling everything she could place her delicate hands on about magic – from Potions to Defense, Transfiguration to Charms. She found that Potions was her one and true love, the one thing she would gladly spend the rest of her life on, but she was also a dab hand at Charms. However, she was absolute shite at Defensive magic and always had been.

This was something she was working to improve upon, given the increasingly vicious rate the war was going, but she was no better at it than she was in fourth-year – much to her extreme aggravation. Anything that came at her in the form of Dark wizards would eat up fourth-year Defensive magic without any effort at all, Lily knew. But, hopefully it would be something.

"Kitten, you still down here?" Henry sounded more awake now. The soft grunt he gave indicated that he was probably attempting to get out of bed and into his chair.

Lily shook herself from her fearful imaginings of invading Death Eaters, Dark magic, and Death. That grunt was familiar to her father, who was getting on in age and had not yet adjusted to the limitability of being unable to move anything below his waist, despite it having been over four years since the accident. "You don't have to get out of bed, Daddy – I'll come to you."

Henry chuckled softly. "Good. My bed is rather comfortable…"

The short hallway that lead to Henry's bedroom was darkened, but Lily had no problem finding the thermostat. She lowered the lever several degrees, listening to the familiar bump as it came on; almost instantly, cool air filled the stifling house. Lily eased open the ajar door all the way and entered her father's room, an automatic smile coming to her face as she meet her father's eyes.

"You know I don't like you working at that blasted pub this late at night, Kitten." Henry said, by way of greeting. He struggled to pull himself into a sitting position and Lily moved forward to help him, but he held his hands up in a stalling motion. "I've got it, Kitten. What do you think I do when you're at school?"

Lily pursed her lips in displeasure. "You shouldn't be here by yourself while I'm at school. Tuney – _Petunia_ should be here with you or you should hire a live-in nurse or something."

"We've had this discussion countless times before, Kitten." Henry achieved the position he wanted and leaned back against the headboard with a satisfied sigh. Through a yawn, he continued, "Butterfly deserves to go off to university and further her education, achieve her dreams of become a nurse. She shouldn't have to be bogged down with caring for an old man, when she should be out living her life. And, I don't want a stranger in living in my house twenty-four seven, caring for me as though I'm some invalid. There are millions of paraplegics who live full and active lives, by themselves and without assistance from live-in nurses – and intend to be one of them."

"You aren't old." Lily said, after somewhat of a pause. She couldn't find anything to refute these points – she never could – so, she always settled for commenting on something.

"Sixty-two is old, Kitten. I should be bouncing grandbabies on my knee by now, instead of arguing with my seventeen-year-old daughter." There was an amused smile on his face, which took the sting out of his words. "I feel old, as well. But, it isn't any worry. Getting old is as much apart of life as anything else – and, each year I get older is another year I'm thankful for."

"It's another year I'm thankful for, too," said Lily with a tender smile. Indeed, with his steadily graying hair and skin that was beginning to wrinkle around the eyes and mouth, Henry looked to be someone's loving grandfather. But, grandchildren were several years away from the aging Evans patriarch, with Lily barely finished with Hogwarts and Petunia entering the most difficult stage of her nursing degree. "But, don't worry – you don't look as old as you are."

"Such lies shouldn't come from such a pretty mouth, Kitten." Henry laughed. "But, thank you for the compliment anyhow. Now, tell me – why do you continue to work so late in that dreadful pub?"

Lily refrained from rolling her jade-green eyes, instead opting to move away from leaning on the doorframe and walking over to the bed. She was careful not to jostle the bed too terribly, as she laid down across the foot of it and rested her head on the upturned flat of her hand. This was another discussion they had had several times before. "We need the money, Daddy. When I put together the money I make in tips – the blokes there are quite generous about tips, I wink and them at bat the 'pretty greens' at them – with what Old Sam pays me, it's enough to make ends me."

"I get disability checks monthly." Henry said, leaning his head against the headboard. He yawned again, this one significantly bigger than the last. "You don't need to work at that place to 'make ends meet'. We're not starving or anything."

"But, we're don't have pounds upon pounds to burn in the grate each morning. We need money and right now, working at the pub is the best way I can think to bring the most of it in at one time." Lily patted her father's leg reassuringly. "Besides, the boys watch out for me plenty and Old Sam takes good care of me. You know that."

"Yes, I know, but it still doesn't rest my nerves." Henry grumbled. "Girls your age should be working in clothing shops or hair salons, not pubs full of drunken louts who are probably having all sorts of lascivious thoughts about a seventeen-year-old."

She couldn't resist the urge this time, and flicked her eyes towards the ceiling. "Good _night_, Daddy. I'll wake you in the morning for church."

Henry grunted something that sounded something like agreement; already, he was drifting back to sleep. But, before he fell under the spell of sleep completely, he managed to bade Lily goodnight. "Have sweet dreams, my Kitten. I'll see you in the morning light."

All her life it had been the same goodnight phrase, each night that Henry tucked her in or saw her off to bed. One would think that hearing the same thing over and over again would get tiring, that it would go unnoticed after sometime. But, not for her. Lily loved that phrase, absolutely adored hearing her father wishing her sweet dream and promising to see her in the morning. A warmth and a light came from hearing that – and if there was anything that Lily loved more than anything, it was the warmth and light that love brought into her life.

The nightly visit with her beloved father had soothed her more than she realized, for the thoughts of lurking Death Eaters and her encounter with the Imperiused Clive were a distant, bothersome hum in the back of her mind. There was even something close to a spring in her step, as she headed towards the kitchen. She would get something to eat, have herself a warm bath, and then sleep in until it was time to take her father to church; after that, her day would start in earnest, as she took care of the daily chores, readied herself for work, and made sure that Henry would be set for the day while she was gone. Business as usual, until the end of August, when her Muggle life would give way to her magical life, and she found herself facing her final year at Hogwarts.

So consumed Lily was with the monotony of her summer routine, she found herself hardly paying attention to the path she entered the kitchen.

Immediately upon entering the kitchen, one was treated to the view that rested outside the wide, sweeping window that dominated the right side of the room. The delicate lace curtains were usually closed, but apparently she'd forgotten to close them after making breakfast this morning; brilliant, silver-white moonlight poured through the thin glass of the window, casting shadows here and there. Perhaps the lights wouldn't even be needed, as brightly as the summer moon was softly illuminating everything in the room –

Including the dark figure that sat motionless at the kitchen table, its back to the moonlit window, a pair of glowing violet eyes shining from within the shadows of its thick hood and staring directly at her.

The soothed feelings that being near her father brought disintegrated under the sudden force of burning, acrid fear as Lily realized that one of her worst fears had come true.

She had brought home with her a Death Eater.

* * *

(**Author's Note**: A longer chapter this time around with more action and dialogue than the previous one, as well as quite the tantalizing cliffhanger, which will be sutiably resolved next chapter. I hope you enjoyed and as always, please take a moment to review and tell me what you thought. Concrit is just as well-recieved and appreciated as compliments are!)


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